Don’t let a soggy sock ruin your day. Finding the perfect winter shoe is an essential pursuit, and whether you’re after a versatile and tidy pair of sneakers or an all-weather boot, there’s sure to be a style out there for you.
1. The Casual Lace-Up Common Projects Derby Shine An elevated step up from the sneaker, this style solves the inevitable ‘smart-casual conundrum.
2. The High-top Sneaker Dior B23 High-Top Sneaker If logo-mania appeals but you just want to dip a toe in, so to speak, these Dior high-top sneakers are a good way to give the trend a try.
3. The Boot R.M.Williams Classic Craftsman Boots Perfect for inclement weather and suitable for almost any outfit, a good pair of boots will be with you through thick and thin.
4. The Oxford Dadelszen Alessia Lace Up Shoe Upgrade your look with a pair of modern Oxfords. This season, textural brown is surpassing heavy black in a tonal takeover.
5. The Sneaker Koio Capri Sneaker With post-Covid wardrobes putting comfort as a priority, a reliable sneaker will prove key for the new relaxed look.The Dress Shoe
6. The Loafer Gucci Loafer The ease of the loafer belies its sophisticated look. This is the ideal shoe for a man who loves luxury but loathes the effort that comes with it.
Words Margie Riddiford | PHOTOS Donna Dotan | 16 Jun 2020
In this jaw-dropping Upper East Side duplex, evocative architecture and considered design produce a truly aspirational home, where exquisite interiors are accented by extraordinary views. Sitting on 5th Avenue, across from New York’s famed Metropolitan Museum of Art, this two-level apartment is a haven of calm in the heart of the city that never sleeps. What was previously three smaller apartments was reworked by the architects at Workshop/APD and Jenny Store of JGSK design, resulting in a beautiful family home that combines practicality with a serious dose of sophistication.
The bottom level of the 348-square-metre home features a foyer, two living spaces, three children’s bedrooms, a media room and the kitchen, where sculptural furnishings in a simple colour palette of grey, black and white lend elegant finesse. Touches of green are introduced in the communal spaces on soft furnishings with the verdant theme carried through the rest of the home. A fitting colour scheme that reflects the apartment’s sweeping views across the leafy tops of Central Park’s trees.
Two Atollo lamps from ECC, Pierre Paulin Ribbon chairs UFL
Recurring curves are introduced through the furniture, coffee tables and smaller details like lamps and accessories, a visual motif that reaches its peak in the spectacular spiral staircase leading from the main area to the master suite. A breathtaking feat of design, the stairs sit in front of a five-metre travertine backdrop and boast wooden treads that gently circle upwards, supported by painted steel and a white shell.9
Upstairs, the master suite offers an oasis in which to relax and unwind, where views across the park temporarily transport the occupier out of the bustle of urban life and into a place of calm contemplation.
“Ultimately, my job is to make people, when they’re wearing my clothes, feel put together and confident and feel like they can achieve anything,” Emilia Wickstead tells me. The designer is explaining the mandate that drives her eponymous fashion label, and it’s giving me a distinct sense of her democratic nature. Worn by the likes of Michelle Obama, Amal Clooney, Alexa Chung, Celine Dion, Amy Adams, Kate Middleton and our very own Prime Minister, and a regular fixture on almost every red carpet of note, Emilia Wickstead is a label carrying some serious clout. But for its New Zealand-born designer, the reward comes from a more grounded place. “You put your heart and soul into dressing someone for the red carpet, so it is amazing,” she says, “but when you see someone on the street wearing your dress or your blouse… and women of all ages, shapes and sizes, you also feel incredibly proud of that too. There’s really not one type of woman I dress — that’s what I’m most proud of.” Acknowledging that Wickstead’s designs transcend one type of woman is one way to underpin her appeal. But for me, broadening that statement feels more accurate: her clothes are universal.
Born in New Zealand, and still, as she tells me, strongly connected to her Kiwi roots (despite basing her business in London), Wickstead’s passion for creating garments really started, as these things often do, with her mum. “My mum was a seamstress,” she explains, “so being a small girl in her workshop and watching her make clothes was definitely a source of early inspiration.” Also articulating how a passion for art was passed down to her from her father — something Wickstead still carries with her to this day — creativity it seems, was ingrained in her DNA.
But it was moving to Milan at age 14, a place Wickstead says was, “not only a central hub for art but also for fashion design,” that set the young creative on a tangible path within the industry in which she’s now a leader. “It was a place that stimulated my imagination,” she tells me, which is hardly surprising considering the close proximity she would have had to some of the most iconic fashion houses in the world. A Central Saint Martins alumni, Wickstead also credits the practical experience she was afforded through her degree as being vital in formulating a vision for where she wanted to sit in the larger context of the industry.
After stints working for the likes of Proenza Schouler and American Vogue, she settled in London at age 24, establishing an atelier in her name and committing, as she continues to do, to creating clothes for the modern woman. “I started my business so young,” Wickstead tells me, laughing, “so at the start, I really had no idea what I was doing.” It’s difficult to look back and imagine Wickstead as a struggling, twenty-something from the context of her enormous success now. But as she tells me, with refreshing honesty, “it took probably about nine years to really feel in a good place.”
To simply call Wickstead’s collections ‘good,’ however, would be to do them a grave disservice. With an aesthetic grounded in her ability to deftly meld hyper-femininity with a unique combination of whimsy and strength, Wickstead’s pieces hold court in the modern context, while possessing an indescribable edge that renders them entirely timeless.
“Fashion,” she tells me, “offers an opportunity to revive history, to revive its stories in a new and exciting way.” Citing Christian Dior and Diana Vreeland as two of her idols, Wickstead draws inspiration from a vast and varied wellspring of creative sources including architecture, photography and film, explaining, “I often go to the library to watch old salon shows.” She seems to revel in a kind of old-world aesthetic, which comes through in her refined silhouettes and flattering fabrics. “What I love about that aesthetic,” she tells me, “is the sense of preciousness that you feel for everything within it — the reverence for craftsmanship and the time that was poured into its creation.”
Everything Wickstead touches carries this sense of craftsmanship, via her perceptive, intelligent approach and artisanal delivery. For Pre-Fall 19, for instance, the designer returned to her roots and used the floral backdrop of Auckland’s Winter Gardens to frame pieces that were both inherently wearable and executed with a romantic, couture-like discipline. For Fall 19, she was inspired by Mary Corleone of The Godfather trilogy and created a collection that balanced more masculine motifs (oversized coats, herringbone checks) with a nipped waist here or a décolletage-baring neckline there. It was described as ‘a wardrobe for life,’ which to me, captures the essence of how the designer wishes to see her work realised — in a more holistic and less piece-by-piece way.
“If you’re passionate about fashion,” Wickstead says, “then it’s about putting a look together and thinking… how do I describe it…” she trails off. “Finished?” I suggest. “Exactly,” she replies. “When people dress up, when their outfit feels finished, you can see the confidence in them because of the way those clothes make them feel.”
Hers is an attitude of curating clothing that will last a lifetime, as well as embracing a kind of understated luxury that, being from New Zealand, is surely something that was embedded in her psyche long ago. It is an interesting phenomenon that Kiwis seem to be able, no matter how brightly their star shines on the world stage, to maintain a level of modesty that’s based on an ethos of treating everyone on an equal footing. Wickstead has this in spades. “My childhood in New Zealand very much informed my attitude and approach towards work and entrepreneurship,” she says, underlining how that inherent Kiwi propensity to “roll up our sleeves, work hard and give things a go,” never left her, regardless of having lived most of her adult life overseas. It’s served her well. “Being from New Zealand has given me a great sense of perspective,” she says, “and it’s stood me in good stead when it comes to running a business.”
Left: Emilia Wickstead with celebrity stylist Elizabeth Saltzman and Lauren Santo Domingo | Right: Gwyneth Paltrow in Emilia Wickstead
As an homage to her country of origin, Wickstead recently created a capsule collection for Woolmark (the global authority on Merino wool which, every year, bestows an AU$200,000 prize on an up-and-coming fashion designer), for which she drew heavily on her New Zealand identity. Describing it as “an absolute passion project,” Wickstead articulated that her vision going into the collection was to “share something of our country with the world.” As such, she decided to photograph the pieces on a line-up of impressive Kiwi women, including the first female Judge to be appointed to the High Court, Dame Silvia Cartwright, the decorated shot putter Dame Valerie Adams, the first Māori woman in New Zealand to gain a doctorate, Ngahuia Te Awekotuku and the first female president of New Zealand Federated Farmers, Katie Milne.
It felt like a love letter from Wickstead to the kind of women she admired growing up, strong women like her mum, who inspired her to go forth and join the ranks as a New Zealander making a significant mark on the world. This collection aptly named ‘Ordinary Yet Extraordinary Women’ also saw Wickstead team up with Smart Works, a British charity that helps women struggling with unemployment prepare for job interviews, a cause close to Wickstead’s heart. “Clothing can make you feel absolutely incredible, or not,” she says, “it gives you pride and is so important to the way you see yourself.” As such, a portion of the collection will be donated to Smart Works, marking yet another way that Wickstead is a woman, working for women.
For me, Wickstead embodies heroism in her unwavering drive, her commitment to creating collections for the people who wear them (as opposed to the prevailing and often fickle trends), and her ability to remain grounded in the face of extraordinary success. Having attracted various private and venture level funding in the past, her label (still independently owned) has gone from strength to strength, and now viably competes with the kinds of brands she would have grown up idolising in Milan. There is no doubt she’s being closely watched by fashion’s major conglomerates (including the likes of LVMH and Kering) as a potential, future acquisition, following in the footsteps of other independent fashion success stories such as Alexander McQueen, Stella McCartney and Marc Jacobs.
But despite her entrepreneurial accomplishments and the fact that her brand has become an undisputed go-to for those in the spotlight, Wickstead is a designer for whom an unerring work ethic and attitude of perseverance (both attributes that she credits to her Kiwi upbringing), will ensure that complacency is never on the cards. “I think the best advice I could give,” Wickstead tells me, “is to just keep going. It will only happen when you’re 100 per cent committed to your message and your vision.” Asked to describe The Emilia Wickstead Woman, the designer gave this summary: “she’s multi-dimensional, modern, confident, assertive and driven” — as much a description of Wickstead herself as it is of the women she dresses.
This year we are taking a hiatus from Denizen’s eagerly-anticipated annual celebration of Heroes. We look forward to paying proper tribute to influential New Zealanders when the battle against Covid-19 is over. In the meantime we look at back at the inspiring stories of the trailblazers we have honoured in the past and continue to proudly call Heroes. Meet hero Jessica McCormack.
There is something transcendent about Jessica McCormack jewellery. While it thrives in its contemporary context, there is an unmistakable air of elusive, old-world appeal. This is jewellery for the modern woman, and yet, in many ways it feels like an ode to women of the past, seeming to exist both as a product of its time and at odds with the concept of time altogether. When it comes down to it, it’s a reflection of its creator. A woman who not only balances practicality and glamour with enviable ease, but in whom the idea of preservation — whether it be of a craft, of an object, or of an attitude — was instilled at a young age. With her unique sensibilities, Jessica McCormack is resurrecting historical craftsmanship to redefine the genre of fine jewellery as we know it and is putting New Zealand on the map in the process.
McCormack’s obsession with the artistry behind fine jewellery started after moving from her native New Zealand to London to work in the Sotheby’s jewellery department. “I was exposed to Russian crown jewels, 1920s Cartier, Lalique,” she tells me, explaining how it opened her eyes to a world into which she had never had access growing up in Christchurch. This hands-on experience combined with a potent blend of work ethic, inherent creativity and good timing, propelled McCormack into the beginnings of her career. But it wasn’t a cut-and-dried path. “I didn’t set out to do this,” she explains. “It was just very incremental, very intuitive and very much about going with my gut and working really, really hard.”
While McCormack was building her first collection, she worked for a diamond wholesaler, gaining an education in gem grading and how best to work with precious stones. One of the first pieces McCormack ever created sold to Rihanna, and while at the time it might have felt like a fortuitous beginning, looking back now, it was an early indication of the kind of success her label would eventually achieve.
Jessica McCormack in the Mayfair townhouse that houses her shop and workshop, surrounded by three of her specially-trained jewellers
Speaking with McCormack, what strikes me first is her unaffected manner. Despite having created what is the undisputed ‘it’ label in women’s high-end jewellery, she doesn’t put on airs, nor does she seem to possess so much as a hint of the haughtiness often associated with those in her industry. While her business might have been born and bred in London’s lofty Mayfair, she still embodies that quintessential, entrepreneurial Kiwi spirit that keeps her grounded, and ensures an ethos of quality remains at the heart of her success.
It’s almost impossible to trawl Instagram without bumping into at least one of McCormack’s designs, usually adorning the décolletage of some Hollywood star or other. Her client list includes the likes of Madonna, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Liv Tyler, Victoria Beckham and Meghan Markle. McCormack’s delicate but striking aesthetic was made distinctive from the beginning, thanks to her decision to revive the traditional Georgian setting. “What I feel it does, is soften the diamond,” she says, explaining it as a more pared-back, refined look. “Diamonds can be super twee and a little bit ageing and harsh,” she says, and although I tend to agree, McCormack’s collections tell a totally different story.
Dispelling the classic claw settings, and instead, encasing her diamonds in a button shape (usually in yellow gold, white gold or oxidised silver), the resulting pieces allow the wearer the unprecedented ability to don their finery at any time of the day — without it ever feeling out of place. “I love the idea that you can wake up in the morning and have your diamonds on with your pyjamas, and then wear them to the gym, and then go to work and afterwards go out for dinner and drink tequila and dance on tables,” McCormack laughs, crediting her unique, “360-degree, holistic way of wearing diamonds,” as part of the reason why her collections have found such a wide and willing audience. “My clients range from 16 to 93,” McCormack tells me, describing a beautiful bracelet she had recently completed for a nonagenarian. Her ability to take something as classical and as typically untouchable as the diamond, remove it from its historical context and reimagine it as something modern and versatile is what has given her pieces such universal appeal. And in many ways, it’s a testament to her upbringing.
Left: Rosie Huntington-Whitely in Jessica McCormack jewellery
McCormack’s late father was an antiques collector and dealer, although she tells me he really had a great many interests. “He was so entrepreneurial,” she says, “he was always doing a million different things whether it was art or antiques or car racing.” Explaining how he was constantly taking her to auctions or antique shops up and down the South Island as a young girl. McCormack credits her dad’s eclectic, collector’s attitude with teaching her how to make something thrive outside its natural environment, by recognising its potential in another. And what her father would do with art and antiques, McCormack now does with diamonds. “My whole thing,” she explains, “is taking something that’s old and beautiful and building it into something that’s modern, relevant, usable, workable and well-designed.” Alongside her revival of the Georgian setting, McCormack draws inspiration from the likes of Art-Deco and The Bauhaus, as well as traditional New Zealand motifs like the Koru. “I’m working on some bigger pieces that will look at more high jewellery with the Koru shape,” she tells me, “by adding Art-Deco-inspired, baguette diamonds to it.” In another nod to her heritage, McCormack reveals that she has just had a number of Pounamu hearts carved for her on the West Coast of New Zealand, as she looks to incorporate the deeper cultural significance of the greenstone into a number of very special, new pieces.
It’s this ethos of embracing and promoting the symbols of her upbringing that is resulting in McCormack drawing attention to the beauty and rich history of her home country. When Meghan Markle wore McCormack’s Tattoo Pendant, for instance, the world’s fashion media started talking about the art of ‘Tā Moko’ and the richness of New Zealand culture. “McCormack’s designs pay tribute to New Zealand and the people who live there,” wrote Amy Mackelden, for Harper’s Bazaar. And it’s true. By her drawing on her own heritage, McCormack is shining a light on our collective one.
It comes back to the idea that, for McCormack, jewellery is as much about telling a story as it is about the craft. Her heart-shaped diamonds talk of love in a charmingly obvious way; her spiralling, Koru pieces speak of family lineage; her Ball n Chain collection is underwritten with the complications of modern womanhood and its need for versatility. “It’s about collection, curation, craft and cult,” the businesswoman explains, outlining her “four C’s,” and telling me how important it is to keep building upon collections in order to create your own story. Jewellery, she tells me, is a lifetime pursuit. “It’s never throw-away, and I think it’s so nice to be able to keep the soul and the energy of a piece while being able to add another layer.” Exemplifying this ethos is her Party Jacket collection, designed to breathe new life into existing rings by enhancing them with specifically-designed, add-on pieces. Even McCormack’s atelier in London is about telling a story. The over 5,000-square-foot townhouse is the site of her store and her workshop (she now has six specially-trained jewellers working for the brand) and is filled with beautiful textural details, walls of books, various decorative objects and art (three of her paintings from the house, she tells me, had recently been loaned to the Tate Modern) that imbues her jewellery with a meaning beyond its aesthetic appeal. “With jewellery,” she tells me, “it’s about the whole experience.”
As important as building a collection that tells a story, McCormack says, is the idea of handing precious jewellery down. “One of my most treasured pieces is a gold Hei-tiki my dad gave me when I was younger,” she tells me, “with garnet eyes.” That jewellery is timeless is not a groundbreaking concept. The custom of passing down pieces from one generation to the next has been going on since time immemorial, but McCormack is giving it a new face. Recently creating a line of antique-inspired custom jewellery boxes, the designer is encouraging her customers to preserve and grow their collections so that they become a kind of personal snapshot. A line up of cross-generational pieces that McCormack likes to think will hopefully still be in existence in a few hundred years. It’s an idea she’s been expressing since her first collection, Messenger of the Gods. Inspired by Greek mythology — specifically Hermes and his winged sandals — it saw McCormack launch her brand with an idea of where she would like it to ultimately end up: passed down through generations after the fashion of folklore.
For now, though, McCormack says her focus is on continuing to build her brand alongside her business partners Rachel Diamond (“Yes,” McCormack says, “she actually married a man named Diamond”) of the famous Oppenheimer diamond dynasty and Michael Rosenfeld — both coming from places of huge expertise in the industry, which makes their partnership and investment something McCormack says is invaluable. “I feel like I’m out of the growing pains stage and now I can look at expansion,” McCormack says, “I’d love to open somewhere in New Zealand.” Despite the designer following this by saying it isn’t something on the cards in the near future, we can take solace in the fact that her jewellery is stocked in Auckland at Simon James Design (the furniture designer is her brother-in-law) — the only place in the world outside her Mayfair store that McCormack’s coveted pieces can be purchased.
That McCormack’s brand will continue to grow, I have no doubt. Her father, beyond instilling in her an appreciation for antiques, encouraged in his daughter an infallible work ethic, something the businesswoman still carries with her today. “As my dad always said,’” McCormack explains, “it doesn’t really matter what you’re doing, as long as you do it to the best of your ability and apply yourself.” It’s something she tells me she wants to pass down to her three children — now aged two, three and four — saying “I just want them to have that similar, New Zealand, no-nonsense work ethic, which I think is everything.”
Recently, one of McCormack’s rings was included in a major sale entitled ‘In Bloom,’ at Sotheby’s New York, where it sat alongside incredible pieces from the likes of Cartier and Van Cleef & Arpels. To me, it felt like a full-circle moment for the designer, whose career has seen her go from working in auction houses to being included in the pages of their catalogues. Having created a business that is making serious waves in an industry populated by long-established, historical houses (not typically an easy space to break into for newcomers), Jessica McCormack with her practical attitude, creative approach and ability to see the bigger picture, has established herself as an entrepreneurial force to be reckoned with, and someone whose work will speak for her long after she stops creating it.
Words Margie Riddiford | PHOTOS Murray Fredericks | 16 May 2020
Sitting stoically on the foreshore of Sydney’s harbour, in one of the city’s most sought-after suburbs, this impeccably realised home is a study in contrast. Designed by Matthew Woodward Architecture, the house is a vision of contemporary architecture and is at once in sync and at odds with its natural environment.
The first thing you notice about The Kutti Beach House is its lightness. It boasts a number of large windows and skylights, which is something you’d want too if your home had the same breathtaking outlook. And despite the fact that most of the property is rendered in monochromatic concrete and white, the subtle touches of wood and the copper tones of the heavy doors and feature windows give the sense that everything in this house has a purpose. The pared back colour scheme allows the abundance of natural beauty surrounding the home a frame through which to shine, while the undulating architecture acts as a homage to the expansive body of water spreading out from the back of the property.
B&B Italia Tufty Time sofa from Matisse and the B&B Italia Harbor armchair from Matisse
Poltrona Frau Ginger dining chairs from Studio Italia
It is a perfect juxtaposition. A meeting of nature with all the modern conveniences of the contemporary (and technologically advanced) home. But neither feel the need to cancel the other out. They acknowledge each other’s presence and equal importance to the homeowners’ experience — and that’s why it works so brilliantly.
B&B Italia Tufty Time sofa from Matisse and the B&B Italia Harbor armchair from Matisse
Between the simple furnishings, considered touches (like the dividing wall of mottled marble in the bathroom) and the unique structure and layout, this home offers a profound sense of calm and order — everything feels in its rightful place. A testament to the expertise of those involved in the property’s construction, there was the potential with a site like this to try and achieve too much — to try and make it too many things (rather than focusing on only a few crucial elements). Luckily, that wasn’t the case and so we are left to admire the impressive handiwork. It’s in achieving this kind of equilibrium —between the modern home and its environment — that the future of architecture lies.
The coffee table book holds a special place in our hearts for its weighty presence, stylised pages and the way it looks when it’s stacked with others of its kind on a designer coffee table. Equally, the cookbook has also long been a staple on our shelves, beloved for the delicious recipes its pages contain — dishes that are brought out on special occasions and memorable dinners. Both breeds are widely cherished, but where the coffee table variety once reigned as the glossy, gift-appropriate show pony (very visible, rarely read), and the cookbook its antithesis (dog-eared, stained and stashed in a corner somewhere), it would seem a new chapter is opening for the latter — and it’s looking set to usurp its polished counterpart.
Over the break, I bought and read Salt, Fat, Acid and Heat, a ‘cookbook’ by Iranian-American Chef Samin Nosrat. It presented what I felt was a new age for the genre. Designed to be read cover to cover, it walked me through the four principles in its title, as the author made the point that anyone, no matter what their experience, had the capacity to make consistently delicious food if they just knew how to treat the four titular elements in their cooking. It was a total revelation. And beyond its informative content, it was presented in such a way that it would look right at home on any designer coffee table (which is where it lives in my home).
It made me think about the kinds of books I had been drawn to of late. A tome from Phaidon called JAPAN, presenting itself as the definitive guide to Japanese cuisine, the delightfully unexpected From Crook to Cook, a cookbook from renowned rapper Snoop Dogg, the beautifully laid out but hefty book from René Redzepi and David Zilber, The Noma Guide To Fermentation, among others that all shared a common theme: food.
Call it a turn to practicality or a sudden desire to up skill, but it seemed that I wasn’t alone in my fascination with beautiful cookbooks. There appears to be now, more than ever, a breed of recipe book that combines practical culinary knowledge with alluring design and a beautifully artistic cover that grants it passage out of the kitchen and into a more visible space. Maybe people want to be seen as more than just collectors of fashion tomes and art bibles. Perhaps they seek recognition as culinary sophisticates as much as cultural ones. I put much of the blame for this shift on Netflix. Never before have we had access to such a wave of cooking shows, each seemingly more artistic and appealing than the last, and I think that these creative cookbooks are answering our desire to introduce some of that sensual magic into our own homes.
That said, I felt it high time we rounded up some of the cookbooks that were capturing our attention for far more than just their food.
She’s On The Money Sharing expert tips in a millennial-skewed manner, Victoria Devine makes the pursuit of financial freedom accessible and fun. Each episode addresses the ins and outs of modern money management, in a way that makes you feel like they were literally tailored to you. Favourites so far include A rookie’s guide to investing, Shake that tax for me, Ahh, Afterpay and my personal favourite, If you like piña coladas (and being fiscally conservative).
Money Diaries Refinery29’s finance-focused podcast is popular for the honesty with which it addresses salary and spending. With each episode focused around a different woman explaining in detail her salary, take-home pay and monthly expenses it’s a fascinating insight into how other people allocate their personal funds and what we can all do to mitigate common mistakes.
Listen Money Matters ‘Not your Father’s boring finance show,’ this podcast deals with matters of the wallet in an engaging, truthful way. Discussions are down-to-earth, funny and deliver actionable advice that reaches through to people who often switch off when finance advice is being dished out (guilty). Interesting episodes so far include, How to Monetize a Blog Quickly, The Smart Way to Buy Property and Marie Kondo Your Finances so They Spark Joy Too.
The Pineapple Project Hosted by Aussie comedian Claire Hooper, this ABC-produced podcast series looks at the fundamentals of money and career — season 1 dedicated to the former, season 2 to the latter. For the purposes of this article, we’ll focus on the first, but both are worth a listen. Hooper delves into things like the life-changing magic of a budget, the psychology of money and how to demolish debt — all in a distinctly funny and straight-forward way.
A number of young artists in New Zealand are eschewing the ‘institution’ to pave intriguing pathways of their own. Together the small galleries they and their peers run are cultivating an intriguing art scene. We spoke with the creators behind three such galleries and discovered a trove of creative potential that had been right under our noses the whole time.
Sosâge 43C Dryden Street, Grey Lynn “I feel like the Auckland art scene is this massive sandwich and we’re just the little filler,” Léa Charron tells me, analogising where she and her new artist-run space fit into the wider landscape of art in this city. “We’re not the bread, we’re not the meat, we’re the nice little sauce that brings it all together.”
I’m meeting the artist and co-curator Nick Jamieson, for a drink to ask them more about Sosâge, the space Léa opened in Grey Lynn. But it was she who posed the first question, asking — an antipodean-inflection offsetting her native French accent — “how did you hear about us?”
Sosâge had been on my radar since I had driven past the space a month or so before. Occupying a small spot on Grey Lynn’s Dryden Street, the gallery maintains a neutral palette in line with something one might expect from an art space. But don’t let its white walls fool you. Sosâge’s offering is different from the norm.
Sosâge
Starting with its unexpected location, somewhere Léa calls, “between the city and suburbia,” the beautiful rows of villas seem to stand in contrast to Sosâge’s experimental windows and rowdy openings. This was something Léa admits she was worried about at first, telling me how events at Sosâge would spill out onto the street. “Actually, the whole neighbourhood has been so supportive,” she tells me, “dropping in to see shows or just to say hi… some people have even bought pieces.” But for both Léa and Nick, selling art (while celebrated when it does happen) is not what necessarily drives them. “Sosâge is a space where things can happen,” Léa tells me, “it blurs the boundaries of a typical gallery space because people can just come in and say ‘hey, I’m an artist can I talk to you,’ and there’s a lot more flexibility around what can be done and the type of art we can show.” Nick agrees, before adding, “it was really important for us that even in the early days we disrupted the proposal system… there is such a huge disconnect between making ‘good’ academic art and making art that commercial galleries will sell, and I think that Sosâge is working to bridge that gap.”
Léa and Nick have a goal to give the art often overlooked by commercial galleries a chance. As Nick tells me, “lots of hyper-academic people make amazing art but they don’t really get shown,” following up by divulging that a bulk of the proposals they’ve received are from people who fit this mould.
Together, Léa and Nick will look through the proposals they are sent and try to decide the kinds of artists and shows that will work for the gallery’s programming. “Bouncing off each other is really helpful,” Nick says, “because our tastes are worlds apart.” Léa laughs, “it’s true.” Where Nick’s work is mostly clean, graphic and often digital, Léa’s is grounded in sculpture. Nick explains how the artist who was about to exhibit at Sosâge (Claudia Dunes), presented one of the first occasions that he and Léa had almost immediately and unanimously agreed.
In order to exhibit at Sosâge, Léa explains that it’s more about connecting with not only her vision but the overall vibe of the space, as well as bringing something different to the table. Passion and drive override saleability as the central criteria. “It’s totally about removing the barrier,” Léa says, “you don’t have to have 100 shows under your belt, you don’t have to have big people talking about your work, all you need is to be able to show that you actually care about what you’re doing.”
Nick agrees, “some people have a scattergun approach to sending out proposals, and while they’re good for context, we’ve found that actually meeting people is where the business is done.” And when the pair say that they’re open to having anything in the space, they mean it. “We’ve had performance, weird ceramic sculptures, music video releases, a fashion launch,” Léa says, laughing, “honestly you can do whatever the fuck you want, but for me, it’s more about why you’re doing it, and more specifically why you want to do it at Sosâge.” For Léa, the work she finds compelling is, in her words, “something a little bit challenging, bizarre or highly conceptual.”
That said, running a small gallery demands almost constant attention when it comes to remaining afloat, and no matter what the exhibition is, bills still have to be paid. “Is funding available?” I ask, to which Léa acknowledges that Creative New Zealand (the body responsible for funding a number of creative pursuits in this country) is overwhelmed by the volume of applications they receive. “It’s still very, very hard to get to the point where organisations like CNZ will recognise and believe in you,” Léa says, before Nick chimes in, “you have to prove yourself first and put on shows that impress them… it’s that paradox about being able to fund something long enough on your own and then seek funding… but the question is always, will you make it that far?”
Hearing Léa’s and Nick’s plans for the future of Sosâge, however, I feel confident that it will continue to build. For Nick, this includes establishing a solid public programme around the gallery. “I keep coming back to what Serpentine Galleries do in the UK,” Nick says, “they run amazing programmes and will pair shows with academic events and podcasts and videos… they get incredible people from outside the art world in to speak, like lawyers and scientists,” Léa enthusiastically agrees, “scientists! That’s the dream.” She continues, “I also think the online gallery idea is really cool because it would allow us to accommodate different kinds of art that only exist digitally… it also doesn’t require artists to produce anything that creates waste, which is an idea I’m drawn to.”
For these two, it’s the marriage of art and education that will carry the concept of Sosâge into the future. “That’s culture, you know?” Léa says, “being able to educate people through art towards different avenues and ways of thinking.” Nick concurs, “when you put them together, you can really reach an audience… yeah, that’s what we want.”
Mercy Pictures 6B Little High Street, Auckland CBD The first thing I noted, walking into Mercy Pictures (after catching my breath from the six flights of stairs it took me to get there) was the lightness of the space. “You know, there is an elevator,” Jerome Ngan-Kee says, leading me into the gallery he started with partner Teghan Burt. On the walls hung pieces that Teghan explained as part of her Touching Each Other exhibition — canvases on which iPhone message threads had been blown up — casting the white-walled space in a stark, modern light.
“The way it kind of works in Auckland at the moment,” Jerome says, after I ask what inspired the duo to start their own gallery, “is that if you want to keep doing shows, you have to do them yourself.” It was after attending Elam together (The University of Auckland’s School of Fine Arts) and spending a number of years running other galleries that Jerome and Teghan decided to start Mercy Pictures, armed with a shared desire to create opportunities for themselves and their peers in what they saw as a small market. “As opposed to just sitting back and waiting for someone to give you a show,” Jerome continues, “you’ve got to help yourself. It’s just a more robust way to engage in art.” I ask whether the perceived lack of opportunity is simply a question of size, New Zealand is, after all, a small country. “It’s just one of those banal truths,” says Jerome, “it is small, and with that size comes inevitable limitations.” Regardless, this doesn’t seem to be slowing the pair down.
“The thing is,” ventures Jerome, “when you’re a young person making art, people often say ‘oh that’s a nice thing that you’re doing,” he cocks his head, imitating the kind of patronising expression he has probably encountered a number of times. “So when we started Mercy,” Teghan pipes up, “we wanted to do something that was perhaps a little more serious.”
Teghan Burt, Touching Each Other, 2019 at Mercy Pictures
It’s a strategy that’s paying off. In 2018, Mercy Pictures hosted artist Amalia Ulman for her first solo exhibition in New Zealand. Ulman is the artist, if you remember, who made her name staging a piece of performance art on Instagram, where she adopted the persona of an aspiring ‘influencer’ on a quest for superficial perfection. Excellences & Perfections, as it was called, was eventually included in a group show at the Tate Modern, making Ulman the first ‘social media artist’ to be shown at a major institution.
Speaking about the artists they approach for shows, Teghan tells me that most of them do it “for the love of art,” which is also a nice summary of what seems to be this duo’s primary aim. “We’re not really driven by commercial imperatives,” Jerome tells me, “I mean the money would be nice but it’s not our main focus.” At the start of this year Mercy Pictures also held a group show curated by artist Rob McKenzie, that featured 22 artists from New York, “some of them were pretty massive,” Teghan tells me, like Bernadette Van-Huy — a big player in the New York art scene since founding Bernadette Corporation in the nineties.
But while the underlying imperative of Mercy Pictures is to share a love of art, I’m reminded not to underestimate how serious these two are, as Jerome explains their presence at the SPRING1883 art fair in Sydney. “The main way we fund Mercy Pictures is through selling art,” Jerome tells me, “as well as lump sum donations from patrons.” He articulates that Mercy Pictures is more like a dealer gallery than it is an artist-run space — the latter, a moniker they don’t feel aptly sums up what they’re trying to achieve. “We’ve both already run a number of artist-run spaces,” Teghan says with a laugh, “and so we wanted to move on to something different.”
This really comes back to the idea of being young and finding it difficult to get people to take you at your ability, not your age. “I feel like in other cultural spheres, young people seem to be empowered,” Jerome says, “but in art, I think a lot of young people don’t feel that.” For Jerome and Teghan, this comes down to the need for more education (at institutions like Elam) about the varied options available to young artists in the industry. “When I started at university, “Teghan tells me, “the head of Elam gave a speech where he said, ‘there are 100 of you, and only one of you will be an artist’… which might be the statistics… but if you go into the industry with that attitude then it just becomes like a luck of the draw thing.”
This narrow view is something that Jerome and Teghan wish would change. “Art can exist in a bit of an idealistic sphere,” Jerome says, “but people need to think about it practically too.” He goes on, “you can create art however you want and there are a number of things you can do to make it exist and survive,” explaining how, while there are, of course, struggles around creating opportunities, “you just have to be persistent.”
Persistence, it seems, has paid off for Jerome and Teghan. As Mercy Pictures continues to steadily build a reputation for itself in Auckland, the pair’s vision is to keep things steady and hopefully figure out how to turn the gallery into a proper, full-time job for them both.
Until then, people can still visit the light-filled, loft gallery on Little High Street if they’re looking to broaden their horizons. “It’s hard to know what people think,” says Jerome, “but I hope they view this as a good thing for Auckland.” Teghan adds, “people overseas say they like our programming, so that’s cool.”
Mokopōpaki 454 Karangahape Road, Auckland CBD Tucked into Karangahape Road’s Ladies Mile, is a gallery making waves that belie its physical size. Mokopōpaki is, as its Associate Director and ‘Keeper of the House,’ Jacob Raniera tells me, “a commercial, dealer gallery” (as opposed to an artist-run space), something he deems necessary to be able to be successful and survive. And yet, walking into the space it feels devoid of the often stark commerciality that can come with the territory of being included in that breed.
Left: Roman Mitch, Last Night, 2019. Right: PĀNiA!, Indian Country, 2019. Courtesy of the artists and Mokopopaki Auckland. Photos: Arekahanara
Mokopōpaki is inherently warm. It consists of only two rooms, set in a long, narrow space, and is not a place where you’ll find clean white walls or echo-y voids. “For us, changing the background that the art was to be seen on, changed how we looked at the art in the first place,” Jacob tells me, “the brown walls in the Brown Room… suggest both an actual and metaphoric shift in perspective.” Even the floors we’re standing on, he explains, are subject to artistic consideration, with artist Billy Apple removing the original vinyl flooring two years ago as part of his work Brown Room Subtraction. There is even an enclosed shower in one corner of the Brown Room, that Jacob says couldn’t be removed when they took over the space and as such, has been embraced as an active part of the exhibition experience.
The gallery is, as Jacob articulates, “an inclusive space with Māori ideas and values at its centre,” going on to explain, “we are a critical group or whānau who want to make ‘art for people’ accessible… we apply Māori approaches to exhibition-making and the production of artwork.” The artwork is cross-generational, experimental and is displayed in a way that makes it feel tangible to me, drawing me in with its presentation that is both raw and thoughtful.
“One of our main aims is to create an environment where everyone feels welcome and invited in,” Jacob says, which is exactly the effect the gallery has as I admire the various pieces that make up HĀTEPE, an exhibition organised by Roman Mitch. Jacob, walking me through the exhibition, points out various pieces that were made by artists’ family members — Te Kōkako and Te Kererū Māui, a pair of dolls that had been sent over from the UK by Jacob’s cousin Te Maari; woven tāniko by Dianne Rereina Potaka-Wade that was a gift to her daughter; an intriguing installation calledDecision-Making Bucket by Roman’s six-year-old son, Marcel Tautahi.
For Jacob, the idea of family lies at the heart of Mokopōpaki. “It is named after my Māori grandfather,” Jacob explains of the gallery’s unique moniker. “Pōpaki means ‘clear, fine night’… which may mean that my grandfather was named in celebration of a child or mokopuna born on a clear, fine night.” He goes on to explain how the Mokopōpaki logo also draws on abstract symbols borrowed from a Māori lunar calendar, underlining how “the light of the moon informs all that we do at Mokopōpaki… it’s our way of referencing, not only another logic or Māori-centric way of the world, but also demonstrates our commitment to women and women artists.”
In line with the way Mokopōpaki aims to ask questions and tell stories, Jacob explains how the gallery doesn’t accept random proposals, adopting a more collaborative approach to programming. “We want to show work that not only responds to the space,” he says, “but that also, in some way considers the core values that are at our centre.” Citing artists willing to embrace the unknown and explore experimental concepts as the kind that work well at Mokopōpaki, Jacob underlines why this gallery has established a reputation for what he calls, “promoting the wild card.”
Mokopōpaki has also collaborated with Te Tuhi, a contemporary art gallery in Pakuranga to present a series of works by local, anonymous artist PĀNiA!. It included her Pakuranga Customs House/Attitude Arrival Lounge, at which visitors were offered the opportunity to have their own, replica New Zealand ‘PĀNiA! Passport’ that was filled with their photo (quickly taken on a phone and printed on a portable printer) and stamped with the names of iconic international galleries — MoMA, Guggenheim, Tate Modern et al.
Just before I left Mokopōpaki, Jacob offered to issue me with my own ‘PĀNiA! Passport’, snapping a photo of me in front of Tiffany Thornley’s quilted piece, From the scraps of patriarchy I made myself anew and asking me to sign it before stamping it with the aforementioned insignia. Now, it sits on my desk, a daily reminder of the way that, as Jacob articulates, Mokopōpaki is seeking to take its unique, creative vision to the world.
From ballet to the business of fashion, Georgia Currie is dancing rings around the competition with her label Georgia Alice. An eye for statement sleeves, on-trend ruching and a considered palette have propelled her onto the racks of Selfridges in London, Lane Crawford in China and Moda Operandi. Here Currie takes us through her lost twenties, the troubles of staging shows and why she won’t be opening a store in New Zealand anytime soon.
Georgia Alice Cruise Resort 20
How did Georgia Alice get started? I studied fashion design. I was really interested in it. I had lived in Sydney prior to coming back to New Zealand and studying and I had always seen myself leaving again. I had actually done classical ballet for 13 years in Sydney but when that didn’t work out I was around 18 years old and I needed to come back. I feel like there’s a romanticism with classical ballet that can be translated into fashion. You’re creating a world for people to be a part of. I never really had the plan of launching a brand. It came about because I was in love with a boy and he suggested that I start a brand, seeing as I had studied it. It was very much a whim, just following love really. In my final year of fashion design I entered the Westpac Young Designers competition and won, which gave me a spotlight, a really good launch pad. You have to be determined and resilient which I feel I am naturally. I mean, I knew no one in the industry here… so I’ve just managed to build Georgia Alice with a mixture of luck and really, really hard work.
Rosie Huntington-Whiteley wearing Georgia Alice
Tell me about the financial side of starting and maintaining a label. I won $5,000 from the Westpac award. I also have a business partner, a family member, who is a 50 per cent shareholder in my label. He gave me $20,000 to start Georgia Alice and over the last eight years he’s contributed $160,000, which has seen me through some tough points. I did Australian Fashion Week and the budget was blown out by bad management. I owed around $80,000 and there were people calling me saying that they weren’t going to light the show if I didn’t pay them $10,000 by the next day. It was really intense. I’m now at a point, eight years along, where I’ve paid that money back and I’m trying to become the sole owner of my company. So you can have investment and that’s really wonderful, but you do reach a point where it becomes quite complex.
What are your core values? My core values change depending on what’s going on in my external life. Having a baby this year, you know that flipped everything. It became less about the stuff I was so concerned with in my label. My business was secondary to my happiness and my life. It’s my job, yes, but everything else is more important. I mean obviously there’s this very weird intense bond between me and Georgia Alice but it’s not the same intoxicating relationship that it used to be. Where I would care about it at an almost unhealthy level.
Georgia Alice Cruise Resort 20
What are the biggest challenges? I think that it challenges you mentally, emotionally, financially and, in terms of your work-life balance, there’s a massive amount of compromise. Honestly, I haven’t really had a twenties. I’m 30 now and I feel like my thirties are my time, to go on holiday and to find inspiration, instead of just being in this constant rigmarole. It’s like Georgia Alice was my first child. I made a very conscious decision in the last year when I knew Earl was on his way, that I would not put my stress onto him and I wouldn’t bring it home anymore. I’ve had a couple of slip-ups this year but that’s where things like meditation and exercise are actually so important for grounding me. Because it’s never actually that bad.
Georgia Fowler wearing Georgia Alice
How did getting picked up by international retailers change your business? It took a lot of time. The first season I went to Paris, I didn’t pick up a single store. And then I did that huge push where I did Australian Fashion Week… and it was around then that I picked up Lane Crawford and Net-a-Porter. Which completely changed my business because the orders that they place are so large and there were sell-through agreements that we had to meet. We were playing with the big boys. So you know it changed the dynamic but it also meant that we had more cash and more press. It takes time and you have to be patient and you have to remember why you’re doing it.
Georgia Alice Cruise Resort 20
What do your customers want now? I’ve almost stopped worrying about that. Now I’m asking, what makes me happy? I’m reducing the size of my collections. I don’t believe that people need many garments a year. And the other massive thing is quality. If something is not the best quality, I’m not putting it in the collection. We’ve started working with pattern cutters in London and Paris and we’re potentially shifting all of our manufacturing to Europe. So I’m stepping it up, reducing my collection, lifting my price point and only producing product that feels like luxury. I don’t want to be in the trenches anymore.
Will we see a Georgia Alice store? Nope. I have too many other things that I want to execute. It’s not a priority. We have a beautiful set of VIPs in New Zealand who come into Georgia Alice and who we have close relationships with, but in terms of New Zealand as our main market, it isn’t. So to open a store here for Georgia Alice wouldn’t make sense. And to open something overseas you just need capital. I’m not willing to go out and get more investment right now. I want to get 100 per cent ownership of my company. That’s the next step.
Georgia Alice Cruise Resort 20
Have you noticed that your business has been affected by the arrival of big stores like Zara and H&M into NZ? I don’t understand how you can sell garments so cheaply, without someone being abused. And I think it’s gross. I don’t think it’s probably affected our businesses because the women who buy into our clothing are so different.
What’s next? For me, it would be formulating a life for myself and my family where it’s a real dream life. Living partly in New Zealand, partly in Europe. Being a creative director and owning my company 100 per cent and not having to be relied upon so heavily in this business. Getting to a point where I can just step away a bit. That’s the whole point of having a business, to be able to create a thing that you are not tied to, alongside other little rewards. It’s sort of like, I’ve created a thing, built it to a place where it runs itself and now, I am in Europe with my son and my lover.
When it comes to injecting a touch of colour into the home or office, usually it’s the classic feature wall that’s touted as the answer. But perhaps we have reached peak feature wall. Maybe, in order to express our individual creativity in a more unique way, we need to start thinking about other ways to introduce various shades into a space.
The floor of Paris and Henry Mitchell-Temple’s home is painted in a custom-made Resene colour
Enter, the painted floor. Taking the central tenets of the feature wall and flipping them horizontally, the painted floor is a decidedly cool way to add another dimension to your space, whether white and bright or rendered in a colour that speaks to your personality.
The floor of Paris and Henry Mitchell-Temple’s home is painted in a custom-made Resene colour
The floor of Paris and Henry Mitchell-Temple’s home is painted in a custom-made Resene colour
Looking at the floor Paris and Henry Mitchell-Temple (the former a fashion designer, the latter the co-owner of Annabel’s Wine Bar) chose for the lower-level of their home, it’s easy to make a case for the trend. Rendered in a beautiful custom-made Resene hue, the floor offers an artistic base for the couple’s creative, sculptural decor and eye-catching art.
The floor in Denizen HQ was painted in Resene Half Copyrite. Photo: Simon Wilson
The floor in Denizen HQ was painted in Resene Half Copyrite. Photo: Simon Wilson
In Denizen HQ, on the other hand, the floors have been painted in the crisp, white tone of Resene Half Copyrite. Neutral and clean, it gives our office the effect of a blank canvas on which we can leave our own, indelible mark. It also works to cultivate a calm space for all the brainpower we exert during the day.
The floor in Denizen HQ was painted in Resene Half Copyrite. Photo: Simon Wilson
So whether you’re ready to commit to bold flooring, or would rather dabble in a more subtle tone, the painted floor trend is one we are happily on board with and Resene has the vast and varied colour spectrum to suit any taste.
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